


Like Me

by Dark_and_night



Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Parenthood, visiting in jail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22206109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_and_night/pseuds/Dark_and_night
Summary: You visit Michael in prison because you have something very important to tell him.
Relationships: Michael Myers & Reader, Michael Myers/Reader, Michael Myers/You
Comments: 10
Kudos: 297





	1. The Visit

Michael had spent the last two years locked up. It was the usual rhythm of when he was incarcerated. Rise and move and fall asleep at other people’s whims, live on a schedule that someone who wasn’t him decided. It infuriated Michael, though no one could read that from his face.  


Until the day something happened at wasn’t the schedule. He had a visitor. He was pulled from his room, walked with four guards to where he would wait until his visitor was fully screened of weapons.  


Michael sat, his hands and feet cuffed and chained, even his neck chained like a dog, as he sat in front of a glass window, waiting to see who was visiting him. He was completely restricted in terms of movement.  


On the other side of the glass, the door opened, and you walked in, carrying a small child.  


A vague 'oh yeah' floated through Michael’s mind when he saw you. The person who had lived with him before he was captured, the one he kept for sex, the one who claimed to love him. You used to never stop bothering him, but the moment he was arrested, you never came around again. He hadn’t thought anything of it, in fact for the most part he had forgotten about you.  


You settled in the seat across from him, the baby squirming in your arms. You hushed it, and the constant motion of the baby touched on one of Michael’s nerves. You glanced up at him, your face openly scared. You’d never been scared when you were living with him, so this was new. Michael liked it, finally seeing you afraid.  


You cleared your throat, picking up the phone in front of you. One of the guards picked up Michael’s phone, holding it up to his ear for him.  


“Michael?” You breathed, the fear on your face turning into some other emotion that Michael didn’t care about. He didn’t respond, but you knew that he wouldn’t. But you desperately had to tell him something, and he didn’t have to speak for you to accomplish that.  


“Michael, this is your daughter.” You said, watching him for any reaction. His eyes lazily moved to the baby in your arms, barely keeping them there for a moment before looking back up at you, completely unimpressed. “It turns out when you were arrested, I was pregnant.”  


Your daughter’s fist found her way into your hair, tugging at it, but you barely responded. You were a single parent, you were used to hair pulling and being climbed all over and just about every other ugly aspect of parenthood. You smiled down reassuringly at her, pinching one of her chubby little cheeks.  


“She’s sixteen months old.” You offered. Michael obviously didn’t care. You sighed, chuckling softly to yourself. Of course he didn’t, but you had to try.  


“I just thought that you had the right to know.” You said, standing and hanging up the phone. God, you’d fought so hard to get to see him, and you let yourself hope that he would care at all that he was a father.  


You turned your daughter to Michael, gently grabbing her little wrist and making her wave at him. “Say bye to daddy, baby boo.”  


Michael looked into your daughter’s face, and his breath stopped when he saw her eyes. It was faint, not yet fully formed, anyone other than him wouldn’t have caught it. But he did. Michael saw it. The baby had the same eyes as him. Not as in shape and color, but in emptiness. This child was like him.  


Michael shot up, the chains almost breaking his arms and windpipe as he thrust his hands out in front of him, for the first time in his entire life feeling desperation. The guards shouted, pulling him back as he fought against the chains.  


You yelped, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight in front of you.  


His windpipe being crushed, having not spoken in years, knowing it was fruitless, arms as outstretched as he could, a single word escaped Michael’s mouth as the guards started pulling out their tasers. “See-!”  


The last thing he saw was his child staring him down as the tasers knocked him out.


	2. Waking Up

See her.  


Let me see her!  


Michael’s eyes snapped open. It took him all of two seconds to realize that he was in a straitjacket. So he was being punished for his earlier outburst. Fine, then.  


He sat up, looking around the room. Normally, he was entirely a creature based on two things; desire and opportunity. Michael would desire something, and find the opportunity to gain it. It had always worked for him in the past, but now things were different.  


Before he had only desired to kill, and he could do that anywhere a human resided. The opportunity was everywhere if only he had the chance to reach out and grab it. If he wanted sex, it was basically the same as killing. If someone was around.  


This time was different. He wanted to see his daughter, because he was like him. Michael knew that people tended to clump together with similar people. Michael ever understood what it was that people could find in common with other people, how they gauged who they spent their time with. He never thought that he’d be desperately clinging to the one chance he had to do the same, yet here he was.  


The only human being that Michael could understand was a dead one. Only dead people had ever had the same eyes as him until yesterday. Perhaps killing was his own way of surrounding himself with like-minded people.  


Michael knew he had to see the child again, even though he had ruined his chances of escaping easily by scaring the guards. Now he had landed himself in this padded room with only one escape, and worse yet, no opportunity.  


Michael breathed out his nose, deciding to push down the desperation that was clawing at his brain and think as if he were hunting someone down. He was used to that, and he didn’t have to try to comprehend why he wanted to connect with someone so badly.  


Planning was easier.


	3. Parenthood

You stepped on a cheerio. But you were pretty much used to that. The next step was straight on a plastic toy, which didn’t have any sharp edges since it was for babies, but hurt nonetheless. The third was on carpet, thankfully, but that was a rarity.  


Finally you made it to the kitchen, where there was a baby gate to block the progression on any more toys to step on. It also blocked your baby from getting into the kitchen were dangerous objects are, but more than a year after becoming a parent you could more easily make jokes about how all the safety things in the house were used more often to protect you than your child.  


Wanting to get started on something you could cook quickly, you decided on just heating up leftovers. While you got them microwave ready, you kept your ears on high alert for any sounds from your child.  


One shriek. Only one shriek was the only warning your daughter ever gave you when she wanted something. As a newborn, she had cried, but as she grew and filled out, slowly her crying just went away. Which, any parent would be grateful for. At first. But crying was normal, it was how babies communicated, and yours just…didn’t.  


You had taken her to see a doctor, but the doctor said that technically nothing was wrong with her. She seemed very receptive to learning, was naturally curious about the world, and did everything else babies do. Except cry.  


Slowly, she was learning to babble, and respond to words. She waved whenever someone said ‘goodbye,’ smiled when something was silly, and babbled to people when they tried to talk to her. But she never cried.  


Every night, you slept, but you slept lightly, almost no real rest coming from it, because you were terrified that you would miss that one piercing shriek in the middle of the night, that she might get hurt or choke or any other number of things, and you’d just sleep through it.  


You knew, deep down, that came from her father.  


You glanced into the living room as your leftovers heated up in the microwave. She was just babbling and throwing around her toys, ignoring the movie you had put on for her.  


“Having fun, Mickey-D’s?” You called out to her, smiling.  


She looked up at you and babbled, holding up her toy and waving it around before throwing it into the couch.  


“Oh? Is that right?” You laughed as the microwave beeped. You got out your food, stepping over the baby gate and sitting on the couch. Quickly she attempted to crawl onto your lap, and you held your food up so she couldn’t hurt herself on the hot bowl.  


“I think it’s almost bedtime for you.” You said, sitting your bowl on the coffee table so you could move her without spilling your food.  


She shook her head at the word ‘bedtime,’ but you just smiled. “Tired?” You asked. She shook her head again. “Well, I’m tired.”  


You picked her up, holding her close as you walked to her room. It was about seven, her bedtime. She shrieked in protest as you set her in her crib, reading her a book she didn’t pay attention to before kissing her good night and going back to your now-cold food, turning up the baby monitor to as loud as you could possibly make it.


	4. The Smell of Blood

The smell of blood had never been so dissatisfying. Killing had never been so tedious.  


Michael was already halfway out of the hospital, his shoulders throbbing in pain. He had dislocated them in order to kill the orderly who had come in to check up on him. It had hurt, but Michael had been through worse. The consistent throbbing was almost welcomed. If he couldn’t enjoy doing the one thing he was good at, at least he had his own pain to keep him grounded.  


Michael had never once envisioned himself as a father. He never envisioned any kind of relationship with anyone. As he stalked through the halls to the exit, his mind clouded with ‘what ifs,’ something he had never experienced before.  


He could kill you and steal the child, but Michael could barely keep himself alive. He could survive just about anything, yes, but that wasn’t the same as feeding, bathing, and keeping himself healthy, so he knew he couldn’t do the same for the child. He could keep you around so that you could take care of the baby, but after his earlier outburst, your house would be the first place they would look for him. It would be much easier to hide with just the child, but that just brought him back to the original problem of how he knew he couldn’t take care of it.  


Michael stabbed the plucky security guard who tried to stop him as he reached the exit, watching the light drain from his eyes. Michael didn’t feel anything as he watched this man die.  


Christ, Michael was starting to have half a mind to just kill the child. After all, it was its fault that he was worrying so much. Get rid of the problem at its source.  


He was outside. If these people were smart, they would have killed him when they had the chance, get rid of him if they didn’t want to die. Life was so much simpler when Michael did things his way. It was everyone else’s fault if they weren’t smart enough to get rid of their problem and take what they wanted like he did.  


Yes, kill the child. That seemed like the easiest solution. Michael ignored the pang in his chest when he thought of being all alone again. He’d forget about the child soon enough, just as he forgot about everyone else.  


Michael started walking back to the only town he could never forget. His hometown. This one the one thing Michael didn’t have to think about. You would never go where he couldn’t find you. For better or worse.  


Probably worse, for you anyway.


	5. She's Strong

For a town that loved to forget him, it sure had a habit of never changing. The best way to forget would be to move on, but instead, it was the town that never changed a thing. Even his old home still stood in the same place that it always had. Not that being remembered was something Michael cared about, especially not tonight. He had another goal.

He saw a couple walking down the street, their very presence a temptation. But he had to restrain himself, he had to just this once. No one calling for the police. No one knowing where he was.

The only person Michael had killed was a random driver on the highway, and that was only for his car and his clothes. He had hid the body well, and if the man had no one waiting at home for him, no one would know he was missing for hours, maybe even days.

Michael walked past the couple. The woman smiled, and the man nodded. Michael nodded back, resenting every moment of restraint. Resenting the fact that his face was exposed. Resenting his child for making him like this more and more with every step, every sound that came from all of these living people around him like nails on a chalkboard.

Figuring out which home was yours wasn’t hard, most of the people of this town had lived in the same houses for years. Yours was the only one that had been previously unoccupied before he was caught. He looked through the windows, seeing children’s toys on the floor.

Michael jimmied the window open, slipping inside. He walked through the living room carefully, making sure not to step on any toys, especially ones that looked like they would make sound. When he reached the hall he saw a light in one of the rooms, so he walked towards that one first. 

There she was, in her crib. She was sleeping soundly, one of her tiny feet kicking slightly, as if she was dreaming of crawling around.

Michael walked inside, standing over her. He had heard people in his life say that babies looked like their parents, but he saw no semblance of himself in that soft face. Maybe he had imagined that she had been like him. Michael was never one for imagining things, but it was entirely possible, especially after being locked up for years.

He didn’t have a knife on him, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t need a knife to kill a baby. 

Kneeling down, Michael put his hands around the child, getting ready to lift her up, when her eyes snapped open. 

His eyes. 

He quickly pulled his hands out of the crib, falling backwards, feeling himself tense up. The baby babbled softly, standing and reaching through the bars of her crib to Michael.

Michael felt his heart race, something he had only ever felt when exercising. He didn’t know why it was happening now, but it jumped up into his throat when his daughter stared at him.

She kept babbling, making grabbing motions with her hands.

Michael brought himself to his knees, slowly bringing his hands back into the crib, hooking his hands up under her armpits. He pulled her out of the crib, slowly bringing her into his lap. 

She just looked up at him, now content that she was being held. Michael stared back at her, his heart pounding. She was like him, he could see it right in front of him. There was no denying it. 

He had never known loneliness until the moment he wasn’t lonely anymore.

Michael opened his mouth slightly, wanting to say something, but not having the words. He couldn’t kill her. It didn’t matter how he felt earlier that night, it didn’t matter how he felt earlier that minute. He couldn’t be alone, he wouldn’t be alone ever again. No matter what, he would never let that happen. He would never let anything happen to this child.

The child reached out, grabbing his nose. And it was the strangest thing, he smiled. He felt his lips turn up, his eyes crinkle. It felt strange, like his skin was resisting the expression. He let his face fall back to normalcy after a moment, but the good feeling was still there. Her hand was so small, but he could tell she was going to be strong one day, just like him. She was going to be just like him one day.

Michael took her wrist between his thumb and forefinger, prying her hand off of his nose.

Suddenly, a shriek escaped his child, hurting his ears and sobering him up. No matter what, she was still an annoying baby who couldn’t take care of herself.

He felt his spirits drop even more when he heard you walking down the hall. Instinctively, he reached for his knife, only to remember that he was in such a hurry to get here that he hadn’t even grabbed one from the kitchen.

And there you were in the doorway.

“Michael.” You breathed, taking in the sight in front of you. You had pictured this scene a million times, but you knew that nothing good could come of it in real life.

Michael stared at you with his blank expression, his hands tightening around your daughter.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t think of anything to say, you could barely even breathe. Did he come here to kill her?

The two of you stood deadlocked, neither of you blinking, the only sound coming from your baby.

She turned in Michael’s arms, seeing you and squealing happily, reaching out her hands to you. Without thinking you took a step forward, just wanting to hold your daughter, before you froze again, Michael’s eyes giving you one warning: to not come any closer.

Your daughter, on the other hand, had a different agenda than Michael. She shrieked again, louder than before, twisting out of Michael’s arms and making her way over to you. You scooped her up in your arms, still starting at Michael for his reaction.

Michael felt rage bubble up in his chest. Why the hell did she want to go to you? You weren’t like her, you wouldn’t nurse the strength that was inside her.

“Her diaper is wet.” You said quickly, knowing the subtle changes in his expression, hoping this was the right thing to say. “She wants to be changed.”

She babbled, tugging on your shirt. You walked over to the changing station, knowing that if Michael wanted the two of you dead there was nothing you could do, especially unarmed. You fell into the routine of changing her, ignoring the icy burn of Michael’s eyes on your back.

Once she was changed, you smiled, picking her up and kissing her forehead. “Isn’t that so much better, Mikey?” 

When you turned back around, you saw Michael had tilted his head. You smiled. “I named her Michelle.” You explained, walking back over and sitting in front of him. “As much after her dad as I could manage.” You let her out of your arms, and she immediately went back to Michael, tugging at his thumb.

He picked her up, settling her on his lap. 

“I call her Mikey, Micky-D’s, just about every nickname in the book.” You continued explaining even though you were pretty sure Michael had stopped listening. His eyes were trained on Michelle.

“She really should go back to sleep.” You finally said. “Or she’ll be fussy tomorrow.” 

He glanced up at you, his entire expression saying, ‘who cares?’

“D-do you want to stay here?” You managed, gathering up all your courage and pulling Michelle out of his arms. He glared at you harshly as you put her back in her crib, turning off the lights and mumbling her a quick goodnight. 

Michael stood, and you led him to your bedroom. You laid down in bed, and he followed suit, not bothering to take off his clothes. You’d almost forgotten about his funny little mannerisms. You had also forgotten how to read him, because you had no idea what he wanted with you or Michelle. But, he hadn’t killed either of you, and you knew if he was going to do it, he’d just do it. 

“Goodnight, Michael.” You mumbled, closing your eyes, deciding that you’d worry about it tomorrow. If there was one thing Michael would never do, it would be to kill you in your sleep.

Michael laid next to you, looking up at the ceiling. Maybe keeping you around would be the best thing. Not just because you could take care of the child. He turned onto his side, really looking at you for the first time. You looked tired, older. He traced his eyes over the curves of your body under the blankets. 

You could help him make more children, more people who had his eyes. He’d never be alone ever again if he made sure you were safe. 

Michael wanted to make another child right then and there, but decided to let you rest. Why not restrain himself a little more, if only for one night? He was getting pretty good at it. He’d keep you plenty busy soon enough.


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by someone on tumblr.

“Daddy up!” Michelle held up her arms to Michael, making grabbing motions.

Michael stared down at her, slowly bending down and hooking his hands under her armpits, pulling her up. Michelle giggled as Michael raised her up, until she could grab the tree branch that came to about eye level for Michael.

He slowly raised her up, making sure not to help too much. If he felt that she was slacking, he would start pulling her back down, until her little arms got back in gear. Michelle grinned as her daddy helped her do pull-ups on the branch. For her, this was all good fun.

Michael watched her, counting the pull-ups she could get to before she started to get tired. This was more of a workout for him than for her at this point, but he wasn’t the type to get winded easily.

Michelle was only three, but Michael didn’t care. He knew her potential, what she could do, and he was going to make her stronger than he ever had been. And, for now at least, Michelle seemed to enjoy her training.

Her laughter still amazed him after all this time. It wasn’t grating, in fact he enjoyed it. The sound meant that she was happy. She was so much like him, but so foreign as well. And he did not want to kill her. After that first night, he never again had the urge to.

Michelle’s giggling grew quiet as she continued to do the pull ups. After a few seconds of silence, she dropped her hands from the branch, sighing softly.

Michael pulled her to him, looking at her red cheeks and tired eyes. She curled up into his chest, too tired to even make any noise. You would probably be happy about that.

“Mikey!” You called from the porch.

He didn’t know if you were referring to him or your daughter, but it didn’t really matter. He turned towards the house.

You stood in the doorway, the living room lights casting your shadow across the lawn. Your stomach was swollen, you were due in only two months. It was supposed to be a boy this time. You had tried to get Michael to talk about baby names, but he couldn’t care less. As long as it was like Michelle, like him, then that was all that mattered. 

Smiling, you held out your arms, taking your daughter from him. Michael was always hesitant to let her go. The one bit of humanity he had came and left with her, and every time Michelle wasn’t with him, he began to wonder if any of this was real at all.

You kissed Michelle’s cheek, flashing Michael a smile. “Thanks for helping me put her down.” You said.

Michael watched as the two of you walked inside. Michelle’s bedtime, and soon after, yours too. Then it would be time for Michael to go out and hunt. 

No matter how he felt at home, the killing would go on at night. He had to, needed to. He had been called pure evil, and that was probably true. But before the blood and gore, he had to make sure that Michelle and his next baby were safe in their beds.

The shape was alone no more. It would never be alone again.


End file.
